


don't leave (i can't take this anymore)

by plush_anon



Category: Scooby Doo - All Media Types, Scooby-Doo! (Live-action Movies)
Genre: "I can't take this anymore.", Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Break Up, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt, FebuWhump 2021 Day 2, FebuWhump2021, Gen, I try to explore what led to the breakup, Unresolved Emotional Tension, a different take on how the break-up could have gone, a touch of Fred bashing if I'm honest, am i successful? let's find out, but then again that whole movie was basically Fred bashing, look at me slipping in scooby headcanons between the angst, set in the first live action movie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-05
Updated: 2021-02-05
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:54:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29227302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plush_anon/pseuds/plush_anon
Summary: Set in the 2002 Live-Action film.Shaggy's tired of trying to smooth things over when Mystery Incorporated fights. Tired of staying when everyone else twists away in splinters, tired of trying to glue everything back together.So he quits first, instead.
Relationships: Daphne Blake & Velma Dinkley & Fred Jones & Norville "Shaggy" Rogers & Scooby Doo, hints of Fraphne
Comments: 3
Kudos: 31





	don't leave (i can't take this anymore)

**Author's Note:**

> a slight change in the script, and the world spins yonder

They're fighting again.

Ever since they all started senior year at Coolsville High, Fred, Daphne, and Velma have been at each other's throats in some way or another.

Fred steals Velma's ideas - a handful of incidents where the reporters attributed her plans and deductions to him before anyone can correct them has evolved into outright theft, and it's ugly. Her intelligence, her deductive abilities and traps are co-opted into his image without so much as a by-your-leave, or even a halfhearted 'thanks'. Their fights are like expired milk, slowly curdling their relationship from openly geeking out together as they share wild theories and what-ifs, to something sour, bitter, yuck.

Daphne resents Fred and loves him - resents how he talks down to her when she gets kidnapped, brushes off her panic and frustration as if it was nothing (it isn't nothing, it never is - Shaggy knows it all too well because he's taken and tied up nearly as often). She's loved him since middle school, and hated him since winter break, when he made a joke about her being danger-prone to reporters, like it was her fault she was kidnapped, some inherent flaw of her personality. She shredded every orange ascot she could get her hands on for weeks when he wouldn't apologize, would only tell her "I'm sorry you feel bad about this," which isn't an apology at all (he would know - they use it on him all the time).

Velma belittles Daphne - she's insecure, and upset, and frustrated. So, with Fred barely acknowledging her very valid grievances against him, she takes it out on the next best thing. Fred used to protest whatever snide remarks she voiced about Daphne, but lately he laughs with her at Daphne's fussiness, her "danger-prone ways", her ‘less-than-intellectual’ hobbies. For those moments, as cruel as they are, Fred and Velma are on the same team again. But it cuts at Daphne, leaving her teary-eyed and furious like she is after another argument with her parents goes poorly - and she gives back everything she gets with viper-cutting comments on fashion or social missteps, on poorly-conceived traps and egos the size of the Mystery Machine.

And Fred thinks they're all beneath him - Velma as the brains forever behind the brawn, Daphne as the supportive beauty, Shaggy and Scooby as the comic relief. Blond, muscular, chiseled jaw, blue eyes - the all-American boy with a head like a Macy's Thanksgiving Day balloon. Shaggy thinks that his friend's been listening to his old man too much, because this only started happening when Fred traded his Cryptid Cards and conspiracy theories for a spot on the football team and whatever boons puberty could net him in the long haul. When he could pretend he hadn't been a weirdly intense little kid, hyper-focusing on monsters that didn't exist and red herrings, but someone Mr. Jones could be proud of.

It's all been stewing for a while now, and senior year Has Not Been Helping. Stress over college applications, final exams, parents' opinions on Everything so you don't make them look bad before you leave, senior sports games and parties and prom. And underneath this mess is the underlying tension that the gang will part ways - drift away and lose each other for good, for the first time since they met each other in fourth grade. Maybe they think this will make it easier to leave - if they hate each other, they won't hurt as much.

Shaggy thinks that's outright stupid, because it seems like this is going to hurt more than separation anxiety ever could. Also, email, video chatting, visits over summer break? Hello? These are all things they have, what's the problem?

But of course, no one listens to him. He's the bait, the guy who eats weird and has trouble reading because his dyslexia is shit to deal with, who's lost girlfriends because he's uncomfortable getting hot and heavy most of the time and might also have some form of PTSD?

The coward child of the city's police chief.

The chicken of Mystery Incorporated.

_Baggage._

He hasn't gotten involved in these fights because... well, because they don't really take note of him unless they need him for something or other, as of late. A ride, someone to vent to, Scooby, something to eat because there's always extra at his house, access to police records (because for all his dad's bluster on good security, he has shit passwords on his work computer and never changes them). He used to think they actually liked him, but now, as the gang snipes and tears and screams at each other, he thinks that he's only kept around because he's a neutral party and still considered useful.

Shaggy thinks that maybe, just maybe, that's no longer enough to be happy anymore.

What’s left to take?

There's a moment of quiet now - he's spaced out again, and now everyone's breathing hard, faces twisted. Scooby looks close to tears because he's a big ol' dog with an enormous heart, and it's breaking now.

Maybe that's what pushes him over the edge to finally open his mouth. Because Scooby deserves way better than this... and maybe, he does too.

"I quit."

They turn as one - if he wasn't so goddamn frustrated with them right now, he'd laugh at the sight - and stare at him, wide-eyed, slack-jawed, and disbelieving.

Fred speaks up first. "Excuse me?"

"Like, I quit. Get your stuff out of my van now, because I'm going home to clean it out, and like, whatever's in there I'm either giving to Scooby, Mags, or dependable old Mr. Dumpster." They keep staring. "NOW, please?! I'm gonna miss curfew if you like, keep lollygagging."

"You're kidding."

"Nope! I'm gonna leave in ten minutes, with your stuff or without, so like, make it snappy, team! Chop chop!"

"No fair! I was gonna quit first!"

"WHAT?!" Shaggy would break down laughing hysterically, if he didn't think he might blow chunks instead. He's not entirely surprised - to be honest, it's a bit of a relief - but to actually hear Daphne say it makes it all so much more... real.

His chest is tight, and he’s getting dizzy. 

"Hey now, you can't quit, we're a team!"

"Well that's rich coming from you, Mr. 'I'm going to steal Velma's hard work and pass it off on my own'!"

"It's not my fault you're not photogenic!"

_"Excuse me?!"_

"Okaaaay, not that this isn't fascinating to watch, but if you don't mind moving, I need to grab my things and call for a ride home. There is absolutely no way that I'm letting Scooby keep a pair of my platform shoes after what happened to the last pair he wore, so if you excuse me..." Daphne pushes Fred and Velma away from each other before wrenching open the back door, clambering inside. 

Shaggy finds he can breathe again, and forces out a laugh. "Hey, that's not fair! Like, I might've given them to Sugar Bean instead - she's got dolls that wear shoes like that."

Daphne sticks her head out the front window to give him a Look. "Really? Because the last time she tried on a pair of my heels, your step-mom looked like she might zap me with eye lasers. And those were practically flats!"

"Stilettos are considered, like, flats now?" Shaggy blinks as a pair of shoes clocks him in the forehead, Daphne stumbling out behind them through the side door.

"For your information, those were kitten heels, not stilettos, which is practically no heel at all. Do you see anything else in there I'm missing?"

Velma scoffs. "What, can't pick up behind yourself for a change?"

"You wanna keep talking, Dinkley, or you wanna go pick up your things before Scooby decides to incorporate them into his diet as a new source of fiber?"

"Rey! Rolyester tastes rike oysters!"

As they start bickering again, Shaggy shuffles through the haphazard mess of the Mystery Machine, sorting what he could and very determined to Not Think About how he might have just lost all his friends in one fell swoop. If he's quick and focuses on the task at hand, he can get out of this without any further drama.

A hand lands on his shoulder, and he turns to see Fred standing behind him, looking sanctimoniously disappointed.

_Like, goddammit Murphy, what did I ever do to you?_

"You know Shagster, I might have expected this kind of behavior from Daphne or Velma -" he hears exclamations behind him, and Scooby falling over himself trying to keep them from interrupting; something needs to be said here, "- but from you? I mean, it's not like you have anyone else. Where's the loyalty, where's the trust? I thought we were friends."

_Crrkrk._

_Snikt._

He feels something snap inside him.

With a move more controlled than he feels right now, Shaggy grabs Fred's hand on his shoulder, and starts to squeeze until he feels the joints pop and groan. As Fred struggles to pull his hand free, he gathers up Fred’s letterman jacket, and straightens to his full height before turning to look down at him again. Something in his eyes is burning, but Fred freezes when his gaze lands on him.

This is going to hurt; he’s making sure of it.

"Your favorite color is, like, tied between pumpkin orange and dark blue. Your favorite food was the Malt Mega-Burger hold the onions and double pepperjack cheese sauce, but you stopped eating it when you got on the football team, and came close to crying when they took off the menu at Marty's. Your biggest hero when you were twelve was that guy who like, led the Ghost Adventurers team, the only class you ever failed was Spanish because you’re shit at languages, your favorite class was a tie between shop and physics, but you tell everyone else it's Civics with Mr. Hobson because he's also the assistant football coach and you want him to recommend you for your top 3 college picks, and your favorite movie genre is sci-fi horror." He takes a step forward, yanking Fred forward to face him when he tries to pull away.

"Your turn to talk, Jones. Like, if you know even _half_ of what I know about you - just the basics, like I just listed off for you - then you can talk about me being a bad friend. But you don't, like, get to accuse me of being disloyal, when I doubt you can even answer one, and when your idea of loyalty is someone you can step on all you want and they'll say please."

Shaggy makes a show of releasing his wrist, but Fred doesn't move. "Well, Freddie? Like, go on.” He shoves the letterman jacket into his chest, grinning rictus as he fumbles. “Start talking. Show the class what a good example of friendship looks like."

Fred goggles at him like he's never seen him before, mouth opening and closing as he tries to muster up some response and finds himself lacking. Finally he huffs, half-smiling, condescension gleaming off his teeth. "Well, uh... food's easy, it's Scooby Snax-"

"Like, nope. Strike one, Freddie."

"What? No, it's definitely Scooby Snax."

"Check your ears, it really isn't. Like, should I count this as strike two Scoob, or..."

"Fine, fine, it's not Scooby Snax. Uhh... okay, okay I got this. Your favorite color is green, and your hero was that loud Food Network guy with the bleached hair and the awesome convertible."

"Like wow…” He drawls. “Not a single word of that was right. Strike out and get your shit outta my van, I haven't got all night." Sadly, Freddie doesn't move, so Shaggy turns away to finish gathering up what half-forgotten trinkets tucked themselves away in the cracks of the Mystery Machine. "Hey Velma? Was the pamphlet for the Aerospace Engineering Competition yours or Fred's?"

"Mine," he jumps at the quiet voice next to him - she slid up unnoticed. "Also, that's my microfiber cleaning cloth in Fred's pile. Didn't realize he had any ascots left in here..."

"Neither did I," Daphne grouses. "Apparently I missed a few."

"Hardly surprising, you miss a lot of things."

Shaggy steps neatly between the two just as Daphne opens her mouth, eyes flashing. "Like, can you two keep the cat fights outta my van please?"

"Rats? Rhere?"

"No Scooby Doo, no cats. Just an idiom."

"Rou're a ridiom..."

He rolls his eyes at that, and pulls out a spare plastic bag from the side-door to shove Fred's pile into; Daphne has her suitcase purse thing, and Velma her backpack slung over one shoulder - she'd been working on a history essay on the way over. "Fred, last call for your stuff, or I might accidentally drop your ascots between that puddle and Daphne's shoe -"

"Give me that!" The bag rips as Fred tears it away, leaving him scrambling to tie it back together. One ascot slips out into the mud despite his best efforts. 

No one says anything. Then again, what’s there to say, now?

They didn't think it would end like this.

As the gang stares between each other, Shaggy forces a smile back on his face. “WELL THEN,” he claps, leaving everyone staring at him like they’re seeing something new, something unwelcome, something **_wrong_ **, “I have to get going. Have a good life, guys! Like, it’s been nice knowing you.” 

He turns on his heel and yanks the driver’s door open. “Like, c’mon, Scooby Doo, let’s go home -Dad’s probably going nuts over curfew.” 

“Rokay, Rhaggy.” Scooby clamors into the van, and Shaggy follows behind. “Rye, guys. Ree you rater, alligator?” 

Velma waves her fingers goodbye, looking rather lost for the first time in forever. Fred stares at his shoes, eyes hard.

“After a while, Scooby-dile.” Daphne grins knife-sharp as Shaggy starts the van. “You two take care of each other, alright?”

“Like, can do will do, Cap’n.” He salutes her, then turns to reverse out of the lot. He hears Daphne calling her family’s chauffeur, the scuff of Fred’s shoes on the asphalt as he kicks out. He thinks he catches Velma’s breath as it stutters out, tearful, thick.

Shaggy turns the wheel and drives off. 

He glances over to Scooby to make sure he’s buckled in; otherwise he keeps his eyes on the road, dark and forlorn. He doesn’t look back. Not once.

He refuses to take anymore of this hurt with him.

(But he’s an awful liar) 

And the rearview mirror leaves a bitter aftertaste behind.

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally meant to be the opening chapter of a longer fic, but hell if I can ever get past one or two when I start writing. Since it matches the FebuWhump 2021 event (at least Day 2 in spirit), and since I really did want to ACTUALLY POST SOMETHING and participate in one for a change, I reworked it and here we are. 
> 
> Maybe one day I'll add something to it (but I doubt it). Enjoy what's here in the meantime!


End file.
